An Ode To Harlieg
by Ironed Maidens
Summary: To my nowgone character, his final words found by his Reincarnation.


The night falls hard on this day, 17th of Rain's Hand. I've been in Vvardenfell for fourty and one half years now. I wonder, how different I am. I came here young, small, no skill at all. But by the time it is now, I must say…I am rather astonishing. I am the Incarnate and the fulfiller of Prophecy. Known as Bloodskaal, Incarnate, Clanbringer, Chieftain, Grandmaster of the Morag Tong, Master of the Fighter's Guild, Paladin, Champion of the Ashlander Tribes, and honorary Captain for the Royal Guard; or more simply known as Harlieg.

I am untouched in physique, far above any runner in stamina, allured to any swordsman, and more respected then even the Duke or the King of all Morrowind, so some say. I have plundered and ransacked all caves, caverns, citadels, strongholds, bandit caves, coves, troves, groves, plains, tombs, shipwrecks, grottos, crypts, sanctuaries, shrines, tunnels, bogs, swamps, glaciers, ruins, and wastes in the land, and then some. I have yet to see a suit of armor I don't own, or haven't adventured in. I even own the only known set of Dragonbone Armor. Where did I find it? Through the hidden riffs of time. When I first came here, I was an Outlander, a no one, but I worked hard for what I know about the land and what I have. Name the sword; I've decapitated a Vampire with it. Name the shield; I've deflected the blow of a Dagoth because of it. Name the armor; I've battled a horde of Undead with it fashioned to my body. Not one inch of this land I haven't covered, I'm sure of it.

I've met the last Dwemer, I've seen the three of the Tribunal, and killed two of them, while the other was killed before I could do the task. I've spoken to the ancient Daedra, I've seen the oldest ancient ships. I've set foot on the most lost of islands in the sea of time. I can't imagine leaving this plane to be with the gods in Oblivion. But, it will happen soon. I no longer have eternal life. Why? My body, while still untouched by time, my mind is. I've grown tired of this land and wish to visit Akavir, but I am ashamed to say that I can not.

I am writing this from my boat, _Ahkana, _as she drifts off into the horizon, to the south. I am to die on her, my legacy still continued throughout the world. My home in Balmora is still ornamented with all the fruits of my travels. My adobe in Vivec still houses my many rocks of Moon Sugar. And that little abandoned shack I stumbled upon along the Bitter Coast, my writings still sit on the table. I love that shack. I came across it while a horrible storm pounded the region, it was cozy and quiet, blanketed by the morning mist and bright sun. Ah, the bright sun. I'll miss its warmth. Then again, I will be among the sun and moons and stars shortly.

I have no apprentices, no maidens, no family, no brethren, just myself and my sword, Scryeflame. I am tired now, and I will never forget the legends of Morrowind, the culture of the feeble and noble of the land. No one will find this note, no one but the one it is addressed to, Ratharn. Ratharn, my fellow, my guard, find this note. You will know where to look. Just remember, you too will charge the plains with a swift steed one day. You too will arouse the land with a fine set of armor, and you too will find the infinite secrets dressed beneath the far depths of the earth. Always remember me when you're the new legend. And please, make sure my statue is not constructed in Vivec. I am not an honorable man. I am just a man, a plain man. Be sure to always to just, and to never cower in the face of Death. Let your voice be heard across the lands from atop Red Mountain. Let no one tell you otherwise.

My breath is dying, my hand is going numb. I am only a man, Tamriel. I am only a man. Farewell, and goodbye, even the commoners who don't think they have a place…remember that people like me are always fighting for even the little guys…real legends always fade out. I may only hope that mine will too.

As my dying with, Ratharn, just be sure to burry me in the spot we met, underneath the tree that breathes life and bears the fruits of knowledge. And so, finally, after my years, and my discoveries…I pit my parting bow.

-From your spiritual predecessor,  
Harlieg


End file.
